


Maps and Globes

by anupturnedboat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anupturnedboat/pseuds/anupturnedboat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian tries not to think about the way she fills the space in his quarters. How long it has been since anyone even bothered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maps and Globes

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble - I should be working on other things, but these two keep interrupting me.

Emma’s left hip juts out awkwardly, defiant. Her elbows cover lagoons and coves as she zeroes in on a small spot at the top of the map.

 

The lantern flickers with the dip and roll of the ocean, and shadows emerge in her hair, and slide over her neck.

 

“Maze of regrets?” she asks without turning, “Really?”

 

Killian tries not to think about the way she fills the space in his quarters. How long it has been since anyone even bothered.

 

When he doesn’t respond, she straightens up, puts her hands in her pockets, and looks at him expectantly.

 

“All lost boys end up in the maze – eventually,” Killian explains gruffly.

 

“Henry isn’t lost.  He was stolen,” she counters. Her eyes never leave his. She searches - always searching, and as he feels as he often does that he is just bare bones when it comes to Emma Swan.

 

“Stolen, lost, it is all just semantics here,” he says turning away. “Anyway, it’s just a wager, love. A place to start.”

 

“I don’t know if I trust Gold’s little globe trick,” she sighs.  There are dark circles under her eyes.

 

“Crocodile is a loathsome fiend,” Killian muses darkly.  “However,” he continues, moving next to her, his shoulder, grazing hers, just briefly. “It appears the Jolly Roger agrees with the dark one.”

 

On the map, he taps on a tiny version of the ship they are on. She glides in millimeters, her bow pointed like a setter.  The land mass near the tip of the north arrow, where Emma’s hand lingers, glows ever so lightly.

 

“It wasn’t doing that before,” Emma says.  She touches the tiny ship, her fingers brush against his.

 

He swallows hard.

 

“She always travels to the destination I most desire,” he explains.

 


End file.
